


Last Dance

by Macx



Category: Real Ghostbusters, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea
Genre: Crossover, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-14
Updated: 2011-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:52:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea/RGB crossover (based on the seaQuest episode 'Knight of Shadows').</p><p>While investigating the wreck of the Bermuda Princess, something strange seems to be happening aboard the Seaview. So who you gonna call?</p><p>But maybe the Ghostbusters have bitten off more than they can handle when they get trapped aboard a sunken ship with a mysterious diary</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

> originally written in the mid-nineties
> 
> Apology: to make this story work I had to get Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea six years into the future and since I'm not really into writing time travel stories I simply let time happen. I apologize now to all Voyage fans who feel 'disturbed' by the older characters (hey, six years aren't much!)

1987

 

South of Bermuda

 

The boat moved silently through the dark waters, its outline faintly lit. It was a submarine, sleek and of a slightly futuristic built. Her name was SSRN _Seaview_. The _Seaview_ wasn't part of the Navy's usual stock of subs and it was also the only on of its kind, planned and constructed by NIMR, financed by the Navy. She served mostly as a research vessel, though she was armed with nuclear warheads and under the command of a Navy officer. The officer's name was Lee Crane, Commander.

Crane stood close to the observation nose of the bridge, watching the dark ocean, enjoying the smooth run. He was a tall, lean, dark-haired man in his early forties with dark eyes and a clean shaven face. He wore a navy uniform, but one arm of the uniform shirt showed the NIMR emblem. Though he had been trained by the Navy, he was employed by NIMR, the Nelson Institute of Marine Research. His contract, just like that of his men, was kind of complicated in that department, because, originally, this had been a research vessel. The Navy had agreed to financing _Seaview_ under the one condition that NIMR would allow them to command the ship at war times. That was the reason for the war heads. Crane didn't think much about his contract, which made him a direct subordinate of NIMR and with it Admiral Harriman Nelson, the man whose brainchild the sub was. He loved this boat and he'd have given everything to command her. Getting involved with a civilian institute was a small price to pay. Getting kicked out by the Navy because of Nelson was something different, and now and then he felt he should deck the older man because of what he had 'arranged'. Well, there was nothing Crane could change about his status.

"Admiring the view?" a soft voice asked and he turned.

His Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Christopher 'Chip' Morton,  
smiled at him. He was the complete opposite to Crane with his blond hair and blue eyes.

"Kinda," he confessed. "Takes some getting used to."

Chip nodded.

 _Seaview_ had spent the last few months in dry-dock, mainly because she was outfitted with the latest in technology. They had a brand new computer system, which was, following NIMR engineers, the best and latest there was. Completely virus proved. Then they had reinforced the sub's hull and, while they were at it, they had reconstructed the observation nose. Nelson loved playing with new toys and whenever he heard of new acquirements he wanted to have them for _Seaview_.

But the main reason for the four months of dry dock had been the new reactor. _Seaview_ was a nuclear sub, the fastest and  the most modern, also being able to dive deeper than any other known sub. But Admiral Nelson had not sat still and had been hunting for innovations. And he had found something; something that had relieved the _Seaview_ of her atomic reactor. Crane was still doubting that this new reactor would prove to be the future of deep sea exploration, but he kept an open mind. The engine worked on a chemical basis, producing electricity the boat used for running. It consisted of a hydrogen and oxygen tank, a reactor, which looked like a sponge, and a water tank. The water was a by-product of the reaction of hydrogen and oxygen, which also gave the engine its power. The whole machine took no more than one third of the original reactor's space, which left more room for storage. Nelson had immediately vetoed the decision to put more missiles on board.

"The reactor is running smoothly," Chip told his friend. "No problems."

Especially not with radiation, Crane thought, a main problem on nuclear subs. The danger of radiation leaks was always present and when it happened, no one would be able to escape. Now they had a safer reactor, but would it prove to be as efficient as the old reactor? Only time would tell.

"The engineers are pleased with the output and ready to go to full speed whenever you are ready, Lee," Morton went on.

Crane nodded. He knew that there was a bunch of engineers aft, checking the engine every now and then, hovering around it like a mother hen over her chicks.

"Do it," he simply said.

Morton turned to the crewmen manning the different stations.

"Helm, Maneuvering, all ahead full, flank speed," the XO ordered. "Bearing two-two-seven."

"Aye, all ahead full, flank speed," the crewman manning Maneuvering replied and the boat increased speed. "Bearing two-two-seven."

Helm echoed the order as well, adjusting trim and rudders.

They were running with a minimal crew, since this was only a trial run which would be able to give the engineers a better impression of the improved sub's operational features. Most of the crew was still at the base, either studying, working or using their time ashore for some shore leave.

The four months at the base had been quite stressful, at least for the officers. While the crewmen were taught about the new computer systems and the new reactor, Crane liked to think about it as a reactor still, the officers had done some more. Crane, after being briefed on the engine, studying its working, learning everything there was about the new computer, had spent one month doing paper work and driving around the country side, talking to people. Two months were spent at different naval bases, mainly talking about the _Seaview_ missions and discoveries, and the last month had been the most stressful one: keeping an eye on the last modifications.

Lee knew about some of the things Morton had done, keeping a constant eye on the reactor fittings. He had also spent a lot of time over in the marine docks at the other end of the naval base where a new sub was built. It was another one of Nelson's brainchilds, a second _Seaview_ , though Crane doubted anyone could ever build another boat like his. The Admiral had talked to Crane and Morton about the new sub, telling the XO in no uncertain terms that he wanted him to command her. Ever since Chip was drawn between telling Nelson he wanted to stay on the _Seaview_ and taking the assignment. Lee had decided that if Morton said 'no' to the command he'd personally kick him over to the new boat and make him accept it.

All the other time of Chip's 'shore leave'  had been spent with his wife and teenage daughters, who had come visiting him at the base. Crane had to smile as he remembered the conversation he had had with his XO. Chip had been voicing off his fatherly worries, telling Crane that his daughters were now coming to an age where boys were getting seriously interested in them as members of the opposite sex. It gave him sleepless nights, just thinking about who they might date while he wasn't home.

Lee hoped the field tests would take his friend's mind off his worries and doubts, and it looked like they did. Chip had been busy the last few days before the departure and when they had left the dry-dock he had been jumping from station to station, getting reports and double-checking everything. Crane grinned. Chip would make a good commander.

"Captain? Sonar," the sonar crewman said and interrupted Crane's thoughts.

"What is it, Kowalski?" Morton asked.

"I'm picking something up on. Quite large." Kowalski frowned a bit as he looked at the sonar again. "Looks like a wreckage."

Crane, curious as he was, walked over to the sonar station, joining Morton. There was a rather large, brightly lit spot on the screen, which wasn't moving. From what Crane saw the spot lay in a depths of nearly 450 feet.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"20 miles south of Bermuda," Kowalski immediately said. "Heading further south."

Crane frowned. He had never heard of great wrecks near Bermuda.

"Let's take a look at it," he decided.

Chip grinned, recognizing the curiosity in his friend's voice. "Maneuvering, give me five knots. Helm, adjust your rudders right ten degrees to new heading three-zero-one," he ordered.

"Right ten degrees rudder, aye," the helmsman acknowledged. "Coming to new heading three-zero-one. My rudder is now right ten degrees, sir."

Morton nodded and watched the gyrocompass click as the the _Seaview_ changed course, steering toward the mysterious wreck.

 

*

 

The sight as was impressive and awe-inspiring as it was unusual. At least for this part of the ocean.

"Adjust trim," Crane ordered. "Keep us at a safe distance. Full stop." He turned to Morton. "Any idea?"

Chip studied the enlarged picture, delivered to them from their starboard camera, mounted near the front of the _Seaview_. It showed a large ship, definitely a passenger cruise ship, but an old one with four funnels. You could see the old draught marks, barely visible through the rust and peeling paint.

"Around 1910," was the answer. "Or maybe sooner."

Lee nodded. "That's what I think as well." He turned to the man at the controls of the cameras. "Try and find a writing on the hull."

The crewman nodded and began working. _Seaview_ had approached the wreck half an hour ago and everyone was alert and working.

After several minutes he said, "I got something, Captain."

"On screen."

The picture on the screen changed and showed the port section of the cruise liner.

"Bermuda Princess," Lee read out aloud.

"I heard about her," Morton said surprised. "She sank two hours after she had left the Bermudas on her way back to New York. No one ever found out why. All the passengers were able to leave the ship, but the Captain and the chief engineer went down with her."

Crane nodded. He had heard about it in naval history classes. "She was never raised because at that time they didn't have the technology to do it and when the technology was available, the first ship it was tried on was the _Titanic_. She was much more interesting catastrophe-wise." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "So, what do we do now?" He watched picture as they made a slow round around the _Bermuda Princess_. She ship was in pretty good shape, showing no holes, though some of the portholes had been broken. "Hold it!" he suddenly said.

Chip looked at him in surprise. "What is it?"

The crewman had frozen the camera on one particular spot and Crane stared at the picture with wide eyes. "Do you see that, Chip?" he asked.

The Executive Officer studied the picture, then he, as well, gave a surprised sound. On the picture one of the portholes was lit .....

"That's impossible!" he breathed.

Lee looked at him, a strange expression on his face. "Maybe someone survived."

"Over sixty years?" Morton asked. "Lee, that's crazy. The oxygen would have run out years ago! And it's incredibly cold down here!"

"Even though, there's a light over there and I intend to find out where it is coming from." Crane straightened and walked over to the com station of the bridge. Morton followed, shaking his head.

"Lee," he tried it again.

"Mr. Morton, I want a complete scan of the _Bermuda Princess_ , and I want the history and passenger list of the boat," Crane ordered.

"Aye," Morton answered, frowning. No use arguing, he thought. If Lee Crane had his mind set on something there was no force in the universe that could move him one inch from it. It was just that the XO had a damn bad feeling about the cruise liner, though he didn't know why.

 

*

 

Norfolk Navy Base, Virginia

 

Admiral Harriman Nelson went through his papers and signed the last few of the orders he had been presented with. He was a Navy Admiral and as such had a few things to do at a naval base now and then. Though most of the time he worked as the head of NIMR, which he had founded and which he ran. Right now he was doing both things, running NIMR and doing his Admiral's job. It was tiring, but necessary, mainly to keep up the Navy's good mood concerning his boat. Even though the _Seaview_ had been built with Navy funds she was still his boat, his idea. He always reminded the other Navy admirals of that fact whenever they wanted her to run some kind of spy mission or errand. She was foremost a research vessel, even if she carried war heads, and as a research vessel she wouldn't get involved in petty fights with the Russian subs.

Suddenly the phone rang.

"Yes?" he asked as he picked up.

"Admiral Nelson, we have a report from the _Seaview_ coming in. Captain Crane has apparently found something and is staying to investigate," the Lieutenant at the other end of the line reported. Nelson knew him. He was a very efficient young man with a remarkable memory for details.

"Found something? What?" he wanted to know.

"Captain Crane said they might have discovered the _Bermuda Princess_."

Nelson's eyebrows rose. "The _Princess_?" he echoed. "Get me a line to the _Seaview_ , Lieutenant."

"Yes, Sir."

 

* * *

 

 _  
Seaview   
_

 

Crewman Glen Harrison had been one of the first men to get instructed on the new hydrogen/oxygen reactor and he prided himself with knowing all there was to know about it. He could talk about it for hours, praising its neat and clean running, the small size, the easy handling and the general feeling of being safe around it. Completely unlike an atomic reactor. Right now Harrison was in the reactor compartment doing some checking on the temperature and the amount of water in the tank beside the reactor. Everything was just fine.

Suddenly he saw some movement. He turned, then frowned as he discovered that he was alone. Turning back to his work station he saved the data. He felt watched. Harrison turned again, but again there was no one there.

 _Weird_ , he thought.

And then he saw it. It was a reflection in the polished surface of the screen, the reflection of a man. He whirled around and his eyes threatened to pop out. Not very far away from him stood a man, dressed in what looked like an old uniform, wearing a Captain's hat. He dark eyes stared at him.

"Go away," the apparition said.

Then it was gone.

Harrison blinked and rubbed his eyes. _What the....?_

 

* * *

 

The conference room was closed and the five men sitting on the chairs held an air of expectations, disbelief and mild interest. Beside Captain Lee Crane and his XO only three more had been called into this meeting. One was Chief Petty Officer Francis Sharkey, a short, dark-haired man, who constantly looked as if he couldn't count to ten, but who had a sharp mind behind those deceiving dopey eyes and also was one of the best CPO's Crane had ever worked with or known. The other man was Dr. Will Jamieson, the _Seaview_ 's medical officer and, as Crane always put it, 'a pain in the neck'. But that was only true when it concerned an injured person trying to convince Jamieson that he was 'really fine and nothing to worry about'. Crane had used that sentence dozens of times. The last man present was Lieutenant Brad Holden, a newcomer aboard _Seaview_. He was the computer engineer who had supervised the installation of the new system and who knew it best.

"All right," Crane said and looked at Holden. "Lieutenant, we all know what we got here, the wreck of the _Bermuda Princess_. The question is, what can your computer tell us about it."

Holden, a slim man with wavy, dark hair and glasses, activated the projection screen of the conference room. The room was a new installment aboard _Seaview_ , but it was a necessary one. It was larger than the Captain's office, which had been mostly used for those purposes.

"The _Princess_ was built in 1907 by the Zenith Passenger Company, owned by one Carl Mace. She was supposed to be the first of a line of ships to do regular cruises to the Bermudas and back. At the time this was a novum. Remember, the _Titanic_ hadn't been built yet and White Star Lines was only a small company compared to Zenith. The ship left the harbor in New York and sailed the Bermudas on July 14, 1908. It was a complete success with more than 500 people on board. The ship stayed at the Bermudas for one week, then left for New York."

"But they never made it," Sharkey muttered.

Holden nodded. "Correct. The ship sank one hour and forty-two minutes after leaving the Bermudas. Following the reports of the survivors it sank without ever hitting anything. At least none of the survivors felt a bump or a shaking or anything else. The Captain sounded the alarm and everyone went from board in the life boats."

"Except for the Captain and his chief engineer," Morton said.

"Yes. The passengers and crew saw the ship sink within minutes," Holden went on. "Only two men were missing at that time, Captain Neil Marsh and Mr. Martin  Young. Their bodies were never found." Holden punched a few buttons. "I found this in the computer archives."

A picture appeared on the projection screen. It was in black and white, showing the passengers coming on board, being greeted by the Captain, a bearded man in his forties, dressed in a uniform.

"There are more."

Several more pictures of the ship, a majestic cruise ship, the passenger sand the Captain and crew flashed on the screen. One particular picture showed Martin Young, standing opposite a young woman, smiling at her in visible pleasure. The Captain stood behind the woman, looking less than ecstatic. Something about this struck Crane as being important all of sudden. Why?

"They never tried to recover the _Princess_ ," Lieutenant Holden explained, "mainly because they didn't have the resources. Zenith went bankrupt and White Star Line bought the company, building the _Titanic_." The engineer grimaced. "We know what happened to her. After that White Star closed as well and no one was interested in Zenith or White Star, since they thought the companies were cursed."

"All right," Crane said with a nod, "so much for the history lesson. Now, what about the ship we have here?"

Holden nodded. "I ran a complete sonar check and scan, trying to get as much information as possible."

New pictures appeared, these in color and very clear. They had been made with the _Seaview_ 's cameras.

"As you all can see the ship's in remarkably good condition. The paint has peeled and it's a bit rusty, but that's normal. Something I find strange is the fact that the chimney covers are closed."

Sharkey's eyebrows rose. "You mean she wasn't running on steam when she sank?"

"No, she was either just lying in the water or someone closed the funnels before she sank, though that makes no sense." Holden shrugged. "From what we know the ship cruised at slow speed at the time."

Crane nodded. "Continue."

"Most of the ship is flooded, mainly because some of the outer rooms took on water, but I also found pockets of air, especially around the ball room and the area where we saw the light. The engine room is also dry."

Morton and Crane exchanged looks.

"Anything on the light?" Crane wanted to know.

Holden looked indecisive. "The computer identified the source as artificial, sir, but it can't say what kind of source it is."

Lee looked even more thoughtful. "I'd like to take a look at it," he then said.

"What?" Morton blurted. "You can't be serious, Lee! This ship could break apart every second! It's too dangerous!"

Crane looked at Holden. "What about the structural integrity?"

"Pretty good. I'd say she's as stable as any wreck I ever saw." Holden glanced apologizingly at Morton.

The XO sighed. "Lee, it's dangerous," he repeated.

"Doc, how about oxygen?" Crane asked the medic, ignoring Chip.

"I'd say some oxygen is still left," Jamieson answered, "but there are most likely high levels of carbon dioxide there, so you'd have to use oxygen masks."

"Chief, get a team ready, equipped with oxygen tanks," Crane ordered. "I want them on call. We'll use the Flying Sub to dock near a hatchway and then either try to open it or cut our way in."

Morton shook his head in silence, refraining himself from telling his friend again that this was way too dangerous.

"Aye, skipper," Sharkey answered. "Anything else?"

"No, that's it. Thank you as well, Mr. Holden."

Holden nodded and left, following Sharkey. The Doc left as well. Left alone with his Captain, Morton looked at the picture of the sunken ship. The feeling of unease increased the longer he looked at it.

"I think it's stupid," he finally said.

Lee smiled. "And I think it'll be very interesting, scientifically speaking, to find out what went wrong with the ship. Think about it, Chip, someone might have survived in there for some time." He pointed at the picture.

Morton shook his head. "Impossible. No one can survive more than sixty years in such a wreckage."

"Maybe someone did," Crane insisted.

Chip gave up. "Okay, maybe someone did. But that doesn't make you the prime candidate to go over and find out, does it?"

Lee grinned. "I'm the Captain, Chip."

Chip rolled his eyes. "All right, I give up. Go, if you really have to. Leave me behind to explain to the Admiral why you once again went against all rules and had to do it your way," he said plaintively.

Crane chuckled. "First I want to have a complete report on the wreck. No need to make it collapse after all, with us inside." Morton nodded in agreement. "This will take a few hours, so you have some more time to fret." Crane's eyes sparkled with amusement.

Morton only grimaced. Though Crane's attitude towards danger had matured, meaning he didn't charge head first into a new, unknown situation, he was still the same adventurer as the first day Christopher Morton had met him. Nothing could ever change that, though Chip tried to be the voice of reason, but failed most of the time.

They both left the conference room, talking about what would be needed over at the wreck. No one saw the light on the stand still picture flicker softly and a shadow moving in front of the porthole.

 

*

 

"What do you mean, 'it doesn't work'?" Chief Petty Officer Sharkey glared at the hapless crewman before him.

"Like I said, Chief, it's not moving an inch." The crewman gestured at the docking bay of the Flying Sub, a small boat that could both fly and make deep sea dives. "We tried to get it running, but it's like the machine is frozen."

Sharkey snorted and went over to the docking area, climbing up into the Sub. Like Seaview the Sub had undergone some changes, some very profound changes. Now she could carry more men and there was a docking tube attached to her, which enabled the boat to dock outside a boat. As he surveyed the instruments he noted with surprise that there was something covering the surface of the machinery. He touched it. It was wet and sticky, feeling a bit like fresh, slimy bubble gum.

"Mr. Rowan!"

The crewman climbed inside as well and his eyes went wide as he saw the sticky substance on Sharkey's fingers.

"Care to explain what that is?" the Chief asked.

"I ... I don't know."

Sharkey wiped his hands on his trousers in disgust. "Get it off the panels, pronto!" He shook his head. "What's this boat coming to? Now, let's see about the engine." He pushed some buttons and listened. No sound. Normally he should have heard the slight 'whir' of the engine warming up. He pushed the buttons again. Again no 'whir'.

"Like I told you, Chief," Rowan said.

Sharkey sighed and left the sub again, walking around to the engine compartment. "Get that thing open and have a look inside. Maybe someone dropped his gum in there as well."

Rowan complied. With the help of two other crewman he opened the hatch leading to the engine. As they unscrewed the last bolt and then took off the hatch, Sharkey nearly choked.

"What the ....?" he asked.

 

*

 

"Lee?" Chip stepped up beside his Captain and gave him a peculiar look.

Crane knew that look. It meant Morton wanted to talk to him, in private, about something he wasn't so sure about. He gestured toward the front of the bridge, where no work stations were and where they could talk in relative privacy. He didn't want to use the conference room.

"What is it?" Lee asked.

"We're getting strange reports from all over the ship," Chip said softly. "Someone saw a person in the reactor room, just standing there. The crewman gave a description of the guy and if he isn't a very good actor and liar he described Captain Neil Marsh."

Crane raised an eyebrow. "The Captain of the _Bermuda Princess_?"

"Exactly. Someone else saw him as well, this time walking around the missile bays. Then Sharkey was called because the Sub wouldn't start and he said he found some 'slimy stuff' all over the engine and the controls." Morton paused and looked through the observation nose at the wreckage, lying not very far away from them. "There have been several reports of ghosts, Lee, and the crewman working on the structural integrity tests told Lieutenant Holden that they saw movement behind the lit porthole -- on stills!"

Lee Crane gave his friend a bemused smile. "You mean our men are seeing ghosts?"

"Lee, it's not funny," Morton hissed and Crane looked a but surprised. "I saw one myself. A woman, standing in the conference room. I went there to go through the ship's tech specs again, and then I saw her. She stood beside the projection screen, looking at me. Lee, I tell you it wasn't my imagination!" The XO dug into his pocket and came up with a small vial, filled with a whitish yellow substance. "And I scraped that off the floor where she stood."

Crane took the vial. "What is it?"

"I don't know, but it's exactly the same stuff the Chief found on the Sub's engine and control panels, and in the reactor room."

The Captain frowned a bit. "You mean we have ghosts here?"

"Not here," Morton corrected. "Over there," he gestured at the wreck. "And don't give me the crap with 'ghosts don't exist', Lee, because we both know they do. And right now they are keeping us away from the wreck."

"And I guess they have a pretty good reason why," Crane mused out aloud. "All right, I'll be in my cabin."

"Doing what?"

Crane smiled humorlessly. "Talking to the Admiral."

 

* * *

 

Norfolk Navy Base, Virginia

 

"Ghosts?! On the _Seaview_?" Admiral Harriman Nelson shook his head, sounding like he said 'A ghost on  my ship? My baby?'. "You saw one as well?"

"No," came Crane's voice over the phone. "But Chip did, and I believe him. I had a good look at the Sub and I can tell you that no one aboard _Seaview_ could have done this."

Nelson, man in his late fifties, with greyish red hair and striking blue eyes, nodded. He knew Crane very well and they were good friends. If Lee told him something was serious, then it was serious. "All right. Keep away from the _Princess_ , Lee, that's an order. If the ghosts can wreck the Sub's engine, we don't want them try out the reactor."

Crane gave an affirmative. Then he asked, "What now? We can't just leave, Admiral. This is an important discovery and we could actually raise the ship, you know. The structural integrity is superb."

Nelson frowned. "Of course we won't leave the ship there. This is indeed a unique find and I want to know all about it. We might solve one of the greatest mysteries in cruise liner history. And after all, we're a research sub. I'll get back to you, Lee. Just stay put." With that he hung up.

"Ghosts," Nelson muttered.

The Admiral wasn't a skeptic, he believed in ghosts, having had paranormal encounters before. The thing was, this time the ghosts were centered around a sunken ship and seemed to be very well able to keep _Seaview_ away from them, sabotaging the ship and the equipment.

"You have ghost trouble?" a voice asked and he looked up.

Nelson smiled at his visitor, whom he had completely forgotten over the conversation with Crane. The man was in his late forties, with greying black hair and a pair of glasses sitting on a long nose. He was dressed in a Captain's uniform of the US Coast Guard. His name was Jeff Sanders, an old friend of Nelson.

"Looks like it."

"Need help?"

Nelson smiled humorlessly. "Against ghosts?"

Sanders grinned. "Of course. Say, have I ever told you about the time I went into New Jersey Parallelogram?"

 

* * *

 

Sea King, 50 miles west of Bermuda

 

The helicopter was called a Sea King, a rather old model, mainly used as a cargo transporter to carry heavy loads long distances. The turbines above the passenger compartment were strong enough to carry a whole squadron of soldiers, with all their equipment. Now it was carrying five men, beside the three crewman necessary to fly the helicopter. Four of the men were civilians, though they wore what looked like uniform overalls and had some equipment strapped to their belts. They wore Navy standard issue rain jackets, the emblem of NIMR on their arms and chests. All had helmets with headphones. The fifth man was an Admiral, dressed in the khaki colors of the navy, equally wearing a rain coat of NIMR. Over the noise of the turbines a lively conversation was going on.

"The _Seaview_ is waiting for us near the Bermudas," Admiral Nelson told the four men. He had to raise his voice a bit to make himself understood. Though they all wore headphones, the noise was incredible. "She'll pick us up and then go straight back to the wreck."

"Have they had any more paranormal encounters?" Dr. Ray Stantz wanted to know.

Nelson shook his head. "The moment they pulled away everything went back to normal."

"So maybe the ghosts felt threatened," Winston Zeddemore mused.

"Possibly," the blond of the quartet agreed, his name Dr. Egon Spengler. "I need readings of the ghosts and I want to analyze the ectoplasm Captain Crane collected. This might give us a clue as to what class these ghostly apparitions have. If they are the ghosts of the deceased then they should be either class three or four, depending on their strength."

Peter, Ray, Egon and Winston had been called yesterday, directly from the naval base at Norfolk, Virginia. Some Lieutenant had told them that Admiral Harriman Nelson wanted to talk to them right away and that a limo would pick them up in two hours. They were expected to comply to the 'order'. Peter had grumbled about military as such, that they always expected you to jump when they called, never coming to you, but when he had seen the limo he had decided that a ride to Norfolk was just fine. Well, the ride hadn't gone to Norfolk. The limo had brought them to the Kennedy airport, from which they had taken a military flight to the navy base.

At Norfolk they had met Admiral Nelson, who had briefly explained to them what was going on. Ghosts attacking a sub, though they did no real harm, but they kept them away from researching and examining a sunken ship, which was of great interest. Nelson had offered them a hell lot of money, money coming from NIMR, not the Navy, so they would get over to the _Seaview_ and take a look at everything.

Peter had immediately agreed. _Why not?_ he had asked the others. A free ride to a sub, all their expenses paid for, plus the extra money for their 'consultation' on the problem. And Nelson had arranged that their equipment was brought to Norfolk. Peter had called Janine, letting her know what was going on and that someone would pick up the proton packs, traps and P.K.E. meters. Janine had been surprised, but she had had the equipment ready when a Navy Lieutenant had come and picked it up.

" _Seaview_ , this is Sentry 7," the pilot of the Sea King called the submarine, which was only thirty miles away now.

They heard a crackle in their helmet loudspeakers and a voice answered the pilot, giving him the exact position. Nelson nodded at the co-pilot, who had glanced questioningly at him. The pilot called the sub again.

" _Seaview_ , we have your cargo ready. Hold your position."

"Roger that," _Seaview_ answered. "Pick up in ten minutes, coordinates Five-Zero-One."

The pilot repeated the coordinates.

Nelson turned to the Ghostbusters. "Gentlemen, it's time to strap in. We'll be there in a few minutes."

Peter gave the Admiral a blank look. "Strap in?" He was already buckled up in the slightly uncomfortable seat of the helicopter. When they had boarded the large aircraft, one of the ground crew had made sure they were all safely strapped, checking each man's buckle.

Nelson smiled and lifted a bright orange colored harness, handing it to Venkman. It looked like a climber's gear, going around the waist, between the legs and around the shoulders. There were triangular safety rings and velcro fasteners attached to the straps.

"Strap into that one." He gave the other harnesses to the Egon, Ray and Winston, then began to strap into his own.

Winston followed the order immediately, professionally sliding into the tangle of straps and fasteners. He had to unbuckle from the seat to do it. Then he turned to help Egon.

"What are those for?" Peter asked carefully, slowly following the example of his friends, all the time keeping a wary eye on the Admiral. It wasn't easy to get the harness on and you had to adjust the straps that they didn't fit too loosely, but also not too tight.

Nelson smiled again, while he checked Ray's harness. "It's to secure you to the rope." He gestured at the arm of a steel rope winch.

Peter's face went white. "You .. you want us to climb down to that sub?"

Winston patted his shoulder. "Pete, how else do you think we could get onto a sub that's not lying in a harbor?"

"But, but ...." Peter sputtered. "I thought we would land...."

Nelson grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. "Dr. Venkman," he said, "the _Seaview_ isn't a carrier. It's not built with a helicopter landing pad. Either you enter the boat in a harbor or, if you want to get aboard while it's on sea, you lower yourself down from a helicopter. There is no other way."

"Whoever said I wanted to get aboard," Peter grumbled.

"Oh, c'mon, Peter," Ray called. "It's gonna be fun!"

"Fun...." Peter echoed in disbelief. "Yeah, sure." He eyed the winch again.

"Sir," the pilot said and Nelson turned. "We are now in position over the _Seaview_. She's already surfacing."

The four Ghostbusters peered through the slightly stained windows of the helicopter and saw, about fifty yards below them, how a sleek sub broke the ocean's surface. Water gushed down from the conning tower and the periscope masts, spraying back into the ocean. The sub was moving slightly with the waves, her running lights on.

"Wow!" Ray breathed. "She's beautiful!"

Nelson smiled with the pride of a father. "Thank you, Dr. Stantz."

At the port a door slid open and they could see two men, dressed in bright orange jackets, climbing out. They secured themselves to the sub and then waved toward the waiting helicopter. The headphones crackled again.

"Sentry 7, this is _Seaview_. We are standing by. Wind is calm, sea is flat. Ready whenever you are."

The helicopter reduced altitude and slipped closer to the open hatch. The wind produced by the rotor blades whipped at the men's jackets.

"Okay, Admiral," the third man of the helicopter crew said and came over to them, crouching a bit. "We have a green light from the _Seaview_. They will hold position. Ready?"

Nelson nodded and the soldier opened the large sliding doors. Immediately salty sea air waved in and sprayed them with water. Peter grimaced slightly.

"We'll get the equipment down first," the soldier said and attached the cargo container holding the proton packs to the crane. Handling the small motor he lifted the cargo container off the helicopter's floor, then swung the arm of the winch around that it faced out of the door and lowered the container toward the sub. The two men on the surface of the sub took the container and stowed in away.

"All right," the soldier, his name tag identifying him as 'Clark' said cheerfully and smiled at the civilians, clearly enjoying this. "Who's first?"

Nelson chuckled. "I think I'll go first, soldier."

Clark nodded and seconds later Nelson was on his way down. Winston decided to go next, then Ray and Egon. Peter stayed as long as he could, watching his friend being lowered to the waiting sub. It all looked so easy.....

"Sir?"

He blinked and looked at Clark, who made an inviting gesture. Peter inhaled deeply and came over, letting the soldier attach him to the steel rope.

"Just don't drop me," he said.

Clark chuckled. "Don't worry, Sir. I dropped my last passenger at the academy training exercise."

"And when was that?"

The soldier grinned. "Last summer."

Peter shot him a dark look. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Just lower yourself out of the door as if you were climbing down a wall. It's easy."

"I usually don't climb down walls," Peter muttered, but did as he had been told.

Seconds later Peter was dangling several feet over the ocean, feeling decidedly seasick, or was that airsick? He was swinging in the wind of the rotor blades of the helicopter. The two men in the bright orange jackets stretched out their arms to grab his feet and he felt that one of them caught his ankle. He was guided down and gently touched down on the slippery wet hull of the boat. Then men freed him from the steel cable and one of the two radioed the helicopter that he was down safe, repeating 'Transfer complete' several times. The helicopter pilot rogered that and the heli's nose dropped a bit as it sped away. A few seconds later all Peter could hear was the soft swishing of waves hitting the surfaced sub.

"Welcome aboard," one of the men, his name tag identifying him as 'Patterson' said. "Follow me." He climbed into the opening on deck. Peter did as he had been told and climbed down the ladder. As he arrived on the deck below he found he stood in a large room, which was brightly lit and thankfully dry. Egon, Ray and Winston were already out of their harnesses and just now getting rid of the wet raincoats. One of the crewman was taking them, stowing them away. Admiral Nelson was talking to a dark-haired man in a khaki uniform. As Peter approached, so did the Admiral and the other man.

"Gentlemen, this is Commander Lee Crane, Captain of the _Seaview_. Captain, these are the Ghostbusters." He introduced each one of them and they nodded at the Captain.

"Welcome aboard, gentlemen, "Crane greeted them. "We should move to the conference room. I'll get your baggage transferred to your quarters." He eyed the container with the proton packs. "What about that?"

"We'll handle it," Egon decided. "Our equipment is very sensitive and the proton packs are nuclear accelerators."

Crane smiled a bit. "Dr. Spengler, this is a nuclear sub, at least is was for exactly twelve years, seven months and twenty-three days before it was refitted with a new engine. My men can handle nuclear material."

Peter elbowed Egon and grinned. "Didn't read your info sheets, huh?"

Egon scowled at him. "Just be careful," he then told Crane.

"Of course." It was clear in Crane's voice that he thought 'Scientists!'. He gestured for the two crewman who had helped them down to get going and carry the stuff away.

"Let's go," Nelson decided and they walked down a corridor, soon finding themselves lost in the maze of stairs and corridors.

"I think I'm lost," Peter muttered after some time.

"Here we are," Crane announced and opened a door labeled as 'Conference Room'. The six men stepped in and were greeted by two others. One was a tall blond, the other a shorter, dark-haired man.

"Lieutenant Commander Morton, Chief Petty Officer Sharkey," Crane introduced the two and then again went through the introduction ceremony.

All sat down while Crane walked over to the com station and gave the bridge the order to get them on course for the wreck.

"All right," he said as he turned back to his guests. "We're on our way. I thought we'd brief you on the first encounter and then let you get your own ideas on the situation."

Egon nodded. "I'd also like to check the ectoplasm probes you have and scan your ship. Especially the places where the apparitions were seen."

"Ecto-what?" the Chief asked.

"Ectoplasm," Ray answered with a smile. "Most ghosts leave ectoplasm behind when they appear in our world. It's what you found on the sub."

"The sticky stuff?" Sharkey grimaced.

"Exactly," Peter replied with a grin.

"Doc Jamieson has the probes. He wanted to have a look at them, but he said they confused him so much that he gave up." Crane smiled. "He said he's never seen anything like it before."

"Most likely," Egon muttered, already busy with the P.K.E. meter he constantly carried around in one pocket or another. Peter had once joked that he was like the guy in the American Express commercial, 'Never leave home without it!'.

"All right, where do you want to start?" Crane asked. "The history of the ship?"

When they all nodded Crane, Morton and Sharkey launched into their stories.

 

* * *

 

 _  
Seaview   
_

 

"So?" Peter asked and stretched on the bunk in their room. They had been assigned two two-bed guest quarters, connected by a doorway.

Ray looked up from his study of the ectoplasm and frowned. "It's ectoplasm all right, highly concentrated and very dense."

"Meaning?" Winston asked.

"Meaning that the ghosts are class 4's and abnormally powerful," Stantz answered. "I checked the pictures showing the damage done to the sub and if the pictures show me everything, and I bet they do, then this ghost was very thorough. They just cleaned the engine a few hours before we arrived and they are still working on the rest." Ray shook his head. "There was ectoplasm everywhere."

"The readings I took show the same ghost prints everywhere," Egon added. "The sub, the reactor room, the missile compartment; it was always visited by one ghost."

"What about the apparitions?" Winston wanted to know.

"I talked to the people who saw the ghost," Peter answered from his supine position. "They all described the same guy, the Captain of the _Bermuda Princess_."

"Except for Mr. Morton," Egon reminded him. "He saw a woman, and the readings in the conference room showed some difference from the ones of the other ghost."

Peter nodded. "I checked every picture we could find of the passengers of the _Princess_ and he thinks he identified her." He sat up and reached for a folder he had carried along. "That's her, Sarah-Jane Mace, daughter of Carl Mace, owner of Zenith Lines."

"The company who owned the _Princess_ ," Ray muttered.

"Right on target, Tex. So we looked at the passenger lists again, but we couldn't find her until," Peter reached into the folder, "we checked some other old papers from the data base." He grinned. "I love computers. Anyway, Sarah-Jane was engaged to Mr. Martin Young, the chief engineer, and they were supposed to get married on the way to the Bermudas, spending their honeymoon there. Since it wasn't in the ships papers I guess it was a last minute decision."

Egon nodded. "This accounts for the ghost of the woman. She was on board and died, though we don't know why when all the other passengers and crew members were saved."

"What about the light everyone saw?" Winston reminded them. "Maybe they did survive, maybe they had children."

Egon shook his head. "I thought about this as well, but they couldn't have survived that long."

"But the scans showed pockets of air still present," Peter said. "Maybe they did, against all odds."

"Even if they have the air, what about food? Heat? What about waste disposal?" Egon shook his head again. "We have to assume that they all died. As to what the light could come from, I have no idea. We have to wait and see."

"Why would the ghosts of the dead still be here?" Peter mused.

"Unfinished business?" Winston guessed.

"It's a common phenomenon," Ray agreed. "But what unfinished business could they have? It was a catastrophe which no one was responsible for."

"Or was there?" Peter suddenly said. "Maybe someone sabotaged the ship."

"Why?"

The psychologist shrugged. "Dunno. Then again, why did Sarah-Jane go down as well. I understand the Captain, since they always say he goes last, I might even understand the chief engineer, but why a passenger?"

The intercom beeped and Ray picked it up, listening to the message. Then he hung up again. "That was Captain Crane. We have arrived."

 

*

 

The four Ghostbusters crowded on the bridge close to the observation nose and looked at the wreck. It was majestic, lying in the deep, dark waters, undisturbed for decades, a grave for three people. The _Seaview_ had closed in on the wreck, coming up parallel to the starboard side and was now doing a slow round. The bower anchor could clearly be seen.

"There," Crane said and pointed at the lit bulkhead.

"Wow!" Ray breathed.

"What could produce such a light? Maybe some sea animal?" Winston asked.

Crane shook his head. "No. We detected an air pocket there. No animals could be inside." He gestured at a map lying on the plotting table. "This is a rough sketch of the _Princess_ , which we pulled out of the computer. As far as we could determine, the light is on in the cabin section C, first class cabins. The air pockets extend to the ball room, the Captain's cabin and some of the other first class sections, as well as the engine room." His finger traced an irregular line on the map, showing them where the sections were. "We'd like to dock here, the crew entrance to the engine room."

"You wanna dock this baby at that wreck?" Peter asked in surprise.

Crane smiled. "No, we'll use the Flying Sub. My men got her up and running again. Let's just hope the ghost doesn't show up again to sabotage it."

Egon's P.K.E. meter choose that moment to give a shrill beeping noise, startling the men. "It's here," Egon said curtly and began to scan the bridge. "That way." He strode through the room and exited into the corridor.

Crane looked at Morton, then gestured him to stay here, while he and the other three Ghostbusters followed Spengler. Egon walked unerringly toward the docking bay of the Flying Sub and then stopped as he entered the room, scanning in wide arcs. The P.K.E. meter's arms were up and blinking.

"Class 4," he said as if to himself.

"Can't see it," Winston muttered, looking closely at the room.

"We should have taken the packs," Peter said uneasily.

"And risk puncturing a hole into the boat?" Egon asked. "No. We can't fire the streams as long as we are in danger or damaging the sub, Peter." He went over to the Flying Sub.

"Great," Peter muttered and followed. Suddenly he stopped and lifted his shoe. "Oh, yuck!"

"The ghost was here," Ray said with excitement in his voice.

"Yeah, and I stepped into its droppings." Venkman grimaced.

Crane walked swiftly over to the Sub and climbed inside. He came out a minute later, looking relieved. "Nothing. Guess we scared it off." He checked the engine as well, but there were no traces of any ectoplasm on the Sub.

"We should go over as fast as possible," Egon decided. "The longer we stay, the more time the ghost has to sabotage our equipment and transportation."

"My men are ready," Crane told him. "We have room for eight people in the Sub, including the pilot. Because of your equipment we take only seven."

The Ghostbusters nodded.

"Gentlemen, let's pack," Peter said. "We have a ghost to bust."

 

* * *

 

Flying Sub

 

Peter sat in the Sub, feeling uneasy. The boat moved noiselessly through the deep sea toward the wreck of the sunken cruise liner. The pilot handled her surely, never letting the boat get too close to the hull. Venkman's feeling of unease didn't come from the fact that they were deep under water; it didn't come from the wreck outside; it didn't come from the ghosts. It was just a general feeling of getting in too deep.

"Communications check," Crane spoke into the mike.

"Coming in loud and clear, Skipper," came the reply from the _Seaview_.

"There she is," the pilot said and Crane peered through the view screen.

Peter leaned forward as well and watched how the Sub edged closer to the rusted metal hull. The paint had flaked off on most of the parts, making way for rust. But through the rust he could see the faint outline of a door.

"That's the hatch into the engine room," Crane explained. "Mr. Kowalski, take the Sub closer and then attach the tube."

Kowalski nodded and a few minutes later the Sub shook slightly. His fingers danced over the control panels. "Tube attached," he reported. "All secured."

"Mr. Harrison, pump out the water and check the pressure in the tube. Then get ready for opening the hatchway," Crane ordered.

Harrison nodded and went over to another control panel located close to the tube's access door. He punched some buttons and they could hear a faint gurgling as the sea water was emptied from the tube. Then came a hiss as air pressure was built up.

"We have a green light," Harrison reported after checking the readings he got. "I'm ready to open."

Crane nodded. "Do it."

Harrison opened the hatchway and a bit of water splashed through the opening. Peter could see the rusted metal hull of the _Bermuda Princess_ at the other end of the tube. Ray whistled slightly.

"Open it," Crane told his men and they got out their tools to break open the door. While they were at work Crane turned to the Ghostbusters. "You have your breathing gear ready?" he asked.

Winston nodded. They had been issued small bottles of compressed oxygen, which they had placed on their proton packs. Ray, working with the engineers of the _Seaview_ , had rigged the bottles to the packs, placing a rear and crash guard on them in case something hit them from behind. The additional weight wasn't much. A cylinder contents gauge had been attached to the bottles, so they could check the oxygen amount left. The breathing mask went over their nose and mouth.

"Remember, the oxygen lasts for two hours. We'll check the oxygen levels in the air pockets before we let you go through." Crane held up small badges. "These are for you. Carry them -- always. They show you when the carbon dioxide level gets to high. Use the masks then."

"Understood."

They clipped the tags on and did a last check. The Captain nodded. He was the only one of the command staff who was accompanying them. Nelson had remained behind, watching, while Morton had the command over _Seaview_.

"We're done," Kowalski called and they walked over to the back of the Sub where the tube was located.

A black hole greeted them. Kowalski and Harrison had stepped back from the hole, stowing their tools, watching the blackness nervously. None of the two were wearing masks. Peter noticed that though the air had stale smell it was apparently breathable. Crane nodded at his men.

"Secure the Sub and then let's go. I'll make a check of the air levels." He took a small device, donned a breathing mask and went into the dark ship. After about half a minute he returned. "Everything's fine. "The air is breathable."

The Ghostbusters shouldered their packs and Egon activated his P.K.E. meter. The device obediently began to blink and beep softly. He was the first one to follow Kowalski into the ship, stepping into the barely three feet long tube, which was surprisingly unyielding. Harrison stayed behind to make sure they all crossed safely, then he, too, came over.

They stood in what looked like a broad stairway. There was a closed security hatch opposite their point of entrance. Crane tried it, but it wouldn't budge. Everything was dark and the air smelled and tasted stale. Egon scanned their environment and then pointed upwards.

"The signal is coming from there," he said.

Crane nodded. "Nevertheless we will take a look downstairs first. That's where the engine room is located. This ship clearly has some kind of power source left somewhere and I have a good guess it's in the engine room."

Egon looked slightly annoyed.

"Maybe we should split up," Winston decided. "Don't worry, Captain Crane," he said immediately when he saw Crane's expression. "We know how to be careful."

"Harrison, you go with Dr. Spengler," the Captain of the _Seaview_ ordered. "Kowalski, you and I will take a look at the engine room."

"Two of us should go with you," Ray remarked. "If there's ghostly activity we are the best suited for this."

Crane had to agree to this and a minute later he, Kowalski, Ray and Winston were on their way to the engine room with Crane. Kowalski reported their position to the _Seaview_. Egon, Peter and Harrison climbed the stairs to the upper decks.

 

*

 

 _  
Seaview   
_

 

On board the _Seaview_ , Morton and Nelson were crowded around the communications station, waiting for the reports of the team. The boat was in a safe distance to the wreck, holding her position.

"Sub has docked on the wreck," the sailor manning communications reported. He was wearing headphones, listening intently. "Tube has attached perfectly and is pressurized. No problems so far."

Chip Morton looked a bit uneasy. He hated to see his Captain go on such a dangerous mission, especially with a bunch of civilians. And then there was the fact that the Sub's new features, the tube and the pressure system, hadn't been field tested as thoroughly as Chip would have liked them to be. And with Crane on board there was this distant possibility that something went wrong. Lee had a record of getting into catastrophes, tight situations and dangerous battles, especially when he was testing new gear or insisted on exploring something. Even if he now no longer charged head-first into trouble ... trouble had a way of singeling him out.

Nelson gave him a smile. "Relax," he said softly.

Morton grimaced slightly. Relax, yeah, sure. When could he ever relax with Lee running around in a dangerous wreck while he, the second-in-command, had to stay behind, waiting?

"Oxygen levels tolerable," came the next report. "They are going in, two teams. Stantz, Zeddemore, Kowalski and the Captain are on their way to the engine room. Venkman, Spengler and Harrison are climbing to the upper decks."

Nelson nodded. "So far, so good." He turned to Chip and added, "Relax, I said. Everything's going to be fine. The Ghostbusters are professionals."

Chip only sighed.

 

*

 

 _  
Bermuda Princess   
_

 

Egon was completely immersed in his readings as he walked along the semi-dark corridor of the ship. Semi-dark because some of the light bulbs were actually working, spreading a diffuse light. Together with the strong lamps Peter and Harrison carried it made up a lot of light to see by. What they saw was marvelous. The ship had really been a first class liner, Peter thought. The corridor was paneled with wood and the floor was covered by a dark red carpet, which even now, sixty years later, had a rich color. Since the sea water hadn't been able to leak in, nothing had rotted away. They had passed dozens of doors, all leading to passenger cabins, which looked like they had been left in a hurry. Of course, Peter thought with a grim smile, the ship had been sinking then

The glowing light bulbs made him feel even more uneasy than before. Light meant electricity, electricity meant a generator, and a generator meant someone had survived. Peter had no longing for some crazed out offspring to attack them because he thought they were otherworldly intruders.

Egon walked on through the corridor, his legs making long, measured strides. The P.K.E. meter was beeping softly.

"Well?" Peter asked to break the silence.

"We're approaching a strong signal, Peter," Egon reported. "There." He stopped in front of a door. It was another first class cabin.

Harrison reached for the door handle and wanted to open it when he gave a cry of pain and waved his hand as if to cool it off. "That's hot!" he complained, sucking his fingers.

Peter reached out, not touching the handle, just holding it over it, then he raised his eyebrows. "It's hot all right," he said and watched as the brass door handle turned reddish white with heat. "Egon?"

"Something apparently wants to keep us out," the blond physicist concluded and scanned the door. "There are strong readings behind that door."

Peter grabbed his wrist before Egon could touch the handle. "Egon ...." he said warningly. "Try using your brain. That handle's hot."

"No, it isn't," Egon contradicted and when Peter looked at the handle he saw that it was no longer glowing red.

He stretched out one hand. No heat. He got bolder and touched the handle --

only to pull his hand away with an outcry.

"It's icy cold!"

"Hmmm," Egon made and scanned the door again. "Seems like the ghost is using different methods, testing what will make us go away."

"He in a trap makes me go away," Peter grumbled and rubbed his icy cold hand. Then he pulled out his proton rifle. "And that's what I'm going to get me now: a ghost. Stand back!"

Harrison complied immediately and Peter fired a ray of ionized protons at the door. The door gave way under the fire, blowing apart in some places. Wood rained into the corridor and the cabin. Peter grinned.

"That's the key."

They stepped into the cabin and looked around. It had been a woman's cabin, Peter immediately saw. There were some now rather shabby looking dresses hanging in the open wardrobe, a few flasks with colorless liquids sat in front of the large mirror, and an assortment of brushes and combs gathered beside the flasks. Books lay on the night stand and on the desk. Egon scanned the room and frowned a bit.

"It's here, but it seems to be flickering in and out of existence," he said and walked around the cabin. "Not very stable."

Harrison had been checking the bathroom and shook his head as he came out. He hadn't seen anything unusual. Peter stowed his thrower and went over to the desk, looking at the books. Most of them were age old romance novels. He smiled. Suddenly his neck hair seemed to stand on end as if he was being watched. He turned and hissed, "Egon!"

"Yes, Peter," the blond replied rather distantly. He wasn't paying attention.

Peter looked around the room, but saw nothing except for Egon and Harrison. And then something shimmered into existence. It was man in a uniform, his dark eyes burning with what Peter recognized as anger.

"Egon!" Peter called the same second the P.K.E. meter shrilled in alarm.

Harrison whirled around and made several steps back to get away from the ghost. Egon's eyebrows climbed in fascination. The ghost stared at Peter with those burning eyes.

"You have no business here!" it said. "Leave."

"Who are you?" Peter asked.

"Leave!" the ghost commanded and energy seemed to crackle around it.

"Hey, we just came aboard," the psychologist said flippantly. "I thought we'd get a tour first."

More energy crackled. "I said leave!" the ghost thundered. "This is my ship! You have no right to be here!" And then it flung something at Peter.

The dark-haired Ghostbuster jumped out of the way of the energy bolt and crashed into the desk. He stretched out both hands to keep himself from falling, but only caught the books. They slipped and with them he lost his hold. He crashed to the floor, books scattering around him. The ghost hovered close to him, his once human eyes two red, burning orbs.

"Peter!" Egon yelled and Peter heard the distinctive whine of a nuclear accelerator charging up.

Suddenly the ghost gave a cry and backed away from Peter. "No!" it moaned and held up his hands as if to ward off an evil only it could see. "NO!" Then it disappeared.

"What the ....?" Peter was confused. "What was that about?" He got himself into a sitting position, more books tumbling off and landing on the floor.

"Peter! Are you all right?" Egon came over and knelt down beside him, worry in his eyes.

"Yeah, sure, no problem. Egon, what's going on here? Why did he disappear again?"

The physicist shook his head. "I don't know, but I can tell you that he wasn't the ghost I picked up when we entered. The other one is still here."

"Where?"

"I can't pinpoint it." Egon's eyes traveled to the mess of books on the floor beside Peter. "He was scared of something, Peter, or shocked by what he saw."

"I'm not that bad looking," Peter joked.

It evoked another grimace. Then Egon raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Venkman wanted to know and looked at what Egon was gesturing.

It was a leather-bound book, lying open on the floor among so many others. There was handwriting on one of the blank pages.

 _I hate him_ , stood in large, bold writing on the page.

 

*

 

"Wow!" Ray Stantz breathed as he looked around the dimly lit engine room of the cruise liner. "This is so neat!"

Lee Crane smiled in amusement at the man's enthusiasm, but he had to confess that he, as well, was taken by the old relic. This was a dream: standing inside such an old ship, the engine intact. Everything in the engine room looked untouched, with only a bit of dust covering it.

"Hey, look at this!" Kowalski exclaimed and they walked over to where he was hunching over what looked like a rigged-together generator.

Winston gave the machinery a closer look. It was a generator all right, old, but still working. There was a complicated construction made of pipes and wire leading away from it. Some of the pipes were moving gently, part of an intricate machine. Ray walked along the moving construction and then whistled.

"This is genius work," he said in awe. "Someone rigged the old generator to something leading outside the hull, and I guess it's a kind of paddle, using the ocean's currents to generate power. They had no waste or gas to dispose of because they used the energy of the ocean itself."

"There isn't such a strong current down here," Crane said.

"But it's strong enough to generate electricity for three people to survive, to get light and heat," Kowalski mused.

"And look here!" Ray pointed excitedly at something sitting beside the generator.

Crane examined what Stantz had pointed at. It was a dry, brittle piece of a yellowish mass in a container. Judging from the salty spots in the container it had once held water.

"It's a sponge," Crane said with surprise. "This is really an ingenious idea. They used a sea sponge to clean the air! I bet that construction up there," he pointed at another rigged-together apparatus, "was used to get the fresh air to the cabins."

"Whoever built this had a sound knowledge of what he was doing," Kowalski agreed. "For their time this is revolutionary."

"But it didn't hold long," Winston pointed out. "Even if they used a sponge, how long would such an animal survive? And how much oxygen could it produce? Certainly not enough. Even the generator managed only so much heat and electricity."

"So where are the people?" Ray asked.

The went on searching through the engine room.

"Captain!" Kowalski suddenly called.

Crane walked over to him and nodded as he saw what his Lieutenant meant.

"What is it?" Ray called and then stopped as well, taking in a sharp breath of air. Just in front of him lay a skeleton, dressed in rugged looking, dark clothes. The skull grinned at them.

Lee bent down and touched the sleeve of the torn jacket. "Officer's stripes. That was the Captain." He discovered the gun in the skeleton's hand and turned the grinning skull. "Bullet hole," he told the others grimly. "The Captain killed himself."

Kowalski gulped.

"Oh, man," Winston muttered.

Crane discovered the piece of paper in the other hand of the dead Captain and took it gently out of his loose grip. He rose to his feet again and unfolded it.

"To whoever may find this one day," he read out aloud. "Mr. Young is dead; he died of pneumonia. Sarah-Jane has taken her life. I believe she couldn't face this gruesome fate anymore. There is nothing left for me. Signed, Captain Neil Marsh." He looked sadly at the skeleton. "Looks like he couldn't face the possible future alone."

The others nodded. Suddenly the walkie-talkie Ray carried crackled. It was Peter.

"You'll better come up here, guys," the psychologist said in an ominous voice. "I think we found something."

 

*

 

"It's a diary," Lee Crane said and turned the leather bound book in his hands.

"Yes," Egon nodded, "and it is apparently the thing that scared the ghost of Captain Marsh away." He took the book from the Captain's hands and opened the last page.

" _I hate him_?" Crane read. He looked questioningly at the Ghostbusters.

"The book fell open on that page when Peter was thrown to the floor. The ghost saw the entry and cried 'no', then popped out of existence," Egon explained. "While you were on your way here we had some time to read the diary. It's mostly without interest for us."

"Except for the last few pages," Peter picked up the explanation. "Sarah-Jane starts with the beginning of this journey, describing how she loved her fiancee and how she looked forward to the wedding." He opened the diary and gave it to Crane, who scanned the pages. "Apparently they were wed by the Captain on the third day on see, then continued to the Bermudas. They spent their honeymoon on the islands, then boarded the ship again."

Crane nodded as he paged through the book, then he stopped. Peter peered at the page and smiled grimly.

"The day after the ship sank," he said calmly.

"' _The ship sank so fast I can't believe it_ '," Crane read out aloud. "' _I don't know what happened yet, but I will find out. My love has returned to tell me we are alone, except for Captain Marsh_ _._ '" He moved several pages forward, then frowned deeply. "There's the entry from the day Mr. Young died. ' _I know he killed him, though I can't prove it. Even if I could, whom should I tell_ '," he read.

Kowalski frowned. "The Captain killed his chief engineer?" he asked.

"Sounds like it," Crane agreed. "I'd love to have a look at the ship's log. If Sarah-Jane Mace, later Mrs. Young, kept her diary I guess the Captain also kept his log."

 _'I am afraid'_ , an eerie, female voice floated through the room and the men flinched. _'He looks at me all the time, making his offers. He approaches me, but I loathe the contact.'_

"Guys!" Winston hissed and pointed at the mirror.

"God ...." Kowalski whispered.

In the mirror was the reflection of a young, blond woman of about twenty. She was beautiful, with an angelic face. Her hair was braided and then bound on her head. She was wearing a white, silk dress, looking like a wedding dress, her hair decorated with flowers and shiny stones. Her lips moved and mournful blue eyes looked at the men as she continued,

 _'He came again and again, telling me I am a widow now, that he had desired me from the far.'_ The woman floated out of the mirror, standing in front of Crane, who held the  diary. _'I loathed him so much, I tried to evade him, but he kept following me. He killed my husband, though he denies it and probably will deny it forever.'_ Her eyes went wide as she said the words, _'I hate him'_.

A roar went through the ship and the cabin started to shake. The Ghostbusters grabbed their proton rifles, ready to shoot the ghost if he came out, but soon after the outbreak everything calmed down again. The female ghost was still there, holding Crane's gaze as he closed the diary.

"Sarah-Jane Young?" Ray asked softly.

Egon, holding his P.K.E. meter and taking readings, nodded. "She resembles the woman on the pictures."

"Sarah-Jane?" Peter asked and approached her.

She didn't move, merely looked at Crane, most likely because he held her diary. Finally she turned, slowly, her eyes incredibly sad and longing.

"Sarah-Jane, where is he?" Peter asked carefully.

The woman stared at him for a long time, then cocked her head as if she listened to something. "Music," she suddenly said, her voice no longer holding the eerie quality of before. "Can't you hear it?" She sounded almost child-like.

"Music?" Peter echoed and looked at Crane. The _Seaview_ Captain only shrugged.

Sarah-Jane drifted out of the blasted door.

"Egon?" Peter asked, looking at his friend for advice.

"Let's follow her," the blond physicist decided.

Sarah-Jane led them up a flight of stairs and into a large room. It was the ball room, or it once had been, before the ship had met its untimely fate. The wooden floor was covered with debris and everything was in a state of needing lots of cleaning. Sarah-Jane drifted onto the dance floor and started to move as if she was dancing with someone. Soft music could be heard, music from ghostly players.

"Uh, guys," Winston said ominously. "I guess we found Sarah-Jane."

They looked at where he was pointing. At the far end of the ball room was a buffet table, but it was no longer used as such. On the table lay a skeleton, wearing a white dress. Her hands were folded over her chest.

"He must have taken her here," Crane muttered. "Then he went down to shoot himself." He shook his head.

A low rumble passed through the room. "Leave!" the voice of the Captain commanded. "You have no place here!"

"Come on and show yourself!" Peter called. "Everybody can threaten and command!"

Egon's P.K.E. meter shrilled again and the arms shot straight up. "He's moving," he said. "He's coming!"

Peter suddenly had the idea that his challenge might not have been such a good idea. He glanced uneasily around.

And then a wave of cold air washed over them, turning quickly into a storm. Crane was thrown against the stage of the ball room, gasping as his back connected hard with the wood. The Ghostbusters staggered, their heavy packs providing a kind of weight to keep them on their feet, though they had to struggle as well. Kowalski and Harrison hadn't fared better than Crane and had ended up in different corners of the large room. The ghost howled unintelligible words and sped through the room. Before one of the Ghostbusters could fire a proton stream it was gone again, leaving the men looking slightly ruffled.

Ray turned to Crane. "Are you okay?" he asked, a worried look in his eyes.

Lee nodded. "Yeah, go."

"Let's get him!" Winston called and the Ghostbusters jogged out of the ball room, following a ghost signal.

Crane and his two crewmen were left behind. Lee got stiffly to his feet, his back aching, watching the ghostly and lonely dancer on the dance floor. There was no use following the Ghostbusters, he decided. They were the professionals in the field of ghosts and Crane and his men would only get in the way. The Captain of the _Seaview_ took Sarah-Jane's diary and began to read it more closely.

 

*

 

 _  
Seaview   
_

 

"Mr. Morton? We have contact with our team again."

The communications crewman looked up and Lt. Commander Morton walked over to his station. Nelson joined him. He had been spending the last half hour on the bridge, keeping out of the men's way, leaving Morton to do his job, but always watching and waiting. Now Morton reached for the headphones, listening to the report.

"What is it?" Nelson asked when he saw the strange expression on Morton's face.

The blond man looked at him. "It's Kowalski. He says both teams are together again and it looks like they made contact .... with a ghost, a woman. Her name is Sarah-Jane Young."

Nelson looked surprised. Even though he believed in ghosts he hadn't thought they'd actually meet one over there right away, especially a female one with a name.

Morton listened to the headphones again. "Looks like they found the woman's diary and are trying to find out what's going on. Apparently the ship was .... sabotaged." He frowned and listened again. "They'll get back to us when they know more. The Ghostbusters are currently chasing the ghost of the man, Captain Neil Marsh, while Lee and the others are watching the female ghost." He put the headphones down. "That's all."

Nelson shook his head. "I wish I knew exactly what's going on over there," he muttered.

Chip smiled wryly. "You are not alone."

 

*

 

 _  
Bermuda Princess   
_

 

"The Captain's cabin," Ray said. "You think he's in there?"

Egon shook his head. "No, he was here, but he's already gone again. He moves very fast."

"Well, since we're here, why don't we see if we can find the log Crane wanted to read?" Winston suggested.

"Good idea," Ray said with a smile and wanted to open the door, but Peter grabbed his wrist.

"Uh-ugh, Ray, you don't want to do that. Those things are not what they seem. Our ghost loves to play with fire." He smiled grimly and aimed at the door to shoot it open.

The deck beneath them lurched and bucked and they were thrown off their feet. A wall of fire roared up from nowhere and suddenly separated Peter and Winston from Ray and Egon, coming closer.

"Shit!" Winston cursed, fumbling for his rifle.

"Shoot the door!" Peter called, aiming his thrower at the door again. Heat rose up around him.

His proton stream hit the wooden door and Winston joined him. The door gave way under combined firepower, though the deck remained unstable and the wall of fire didn't diminish. Winston stumbled into the cabin, barely able to catch himself before he slammed into the desk. This was worse than being on sea in the middle of a storm.

"Are you all right?" Peter asked from behind him, holding on to the doorframe with all his strength.

Winston noted that the cabin had ..... turned! Peter let go of the door frame and slid down to where the desk was. The door was no located about 30 ° above them.

"It's a crazy world," he joked.

"Peter! Winston!" they could hear Ray's call. "Are you all right."

"Yeah, just dandy!" Peter shouted back.

"We're still kept away by the wall of fire, Peter," Egon explained. "And it's not an illusion."

"Okay, stay put, we'll be back in a second." Winston turned to Peter. "Okay, let's find the ship's log."

They looked around the cabin. Like the cabin of Sarah-Jane it was full of dust. There were a lot of books on ships in the shelf, most of them lying on the floor, though, because the cabin had turned. The two men went through the books, searching for the log.

"Hey, here it is," Winston suddenly called and held up a squarish, leather-bound book. It said 'Bermuda Princess Log Book' on the leather cover.

The floor, or wall, beneath them lurched again and the ghost wailed. Outside they heard Egon's P.K.E. meter scream a warning.

"It's coming!" Ray cried.

And then the ghost was among them. Peter shot a proton stream at the descending entity, which only barely resembled the Captain anymore. It streaked down on Winston, who was holding the book, taloned claws reaching for him, but was brought off course by Peter's fire. It rose to the ceiling and hovered there, snarling.

"Peter! Winston!" Ray called from outside. "What's happening?"

"We got company!" Peter yelled back, balancing the thrower. "I think the good Captain doesn't want us to read his book."

Winston had gotten out his thrower as well, tugging the book under one arm. The ghost charged again, and again they warded it off with the proton streams. After another try it retreated, still snarling. It hovered below the ceiling, then dissolved.

Winston let out a sigh of relief. "Whew," he whispered and wiped some sweat off his brow.

"Let's get out of here," Peter decided and began to climb the steep floor toward the door.

 

*

 

Lee Crane was fascinated by the diary of Sarah-Jane Young. She had been born a rich girl, her father owning several cruise lines, the biggest one being Zenith. She had had a careless youth, had spent a lot of time in different schools, mostly private ones, getting a very thorough education. With eighteen she had been introduced to Martin Young, who had been a promising young engineer, showing every talent to be the youngest Captain ever. Carl Mace had approved the marriage, making his daughter very happy. They young couple had planned to marry on sea, on the virgin cruise of the _Bermuda Princess_. But when the Captain of the _Princess_ had become ill, he had to be replaced with Captain Neil Marsh. She wrote that the Captain had always tried to win her, but that her father had blocked all his attempts. And, personally, she didn't like him. That she was now supposed to be married by him had been a shock and she had decided not to do it. Crane read on as Sarah-Jane described the attempts of her young fiancee to convince her that this didn't matter. Finally, at the day the _Princess_ left for the Bermudas, she agreed to the marriage by Captain Marsh and they were wed two days later.

There were some pages about their honeymoon, which he skipped, paging through the diary until he arrived at the day of the departure from the Bermuda Islands. Everything had been fine, but Sarah-Jane detected a nervous tension in her husband, though he never told her what was bothering him. About two hours later the ship was sinking.

The next entry was a day later, where Sarah-Jane said she had stayed on board because she didn't want to leave her husband, who was trying to keep the ship from sinking. He had been in the engine room by then, closing the funnels. Sarah-Jane had been in the ball room. She then described how they tried to find a way out, her husband, she and the Captain. But there was none. They were effectively trapped. The next days were full of entries about how they went through every accessible cabin to find food and blankets, because it was getting cold. Her husband had the idea to use the currents as a heat and electricity generator and set to work on it, also creating the oxygen regenerator. When he didn't return from one of his checks she searched for him and finally found him, completely wet and exhausted, in the engine room. He was unconscious. Two days later he died of pneumonia, never having regained consciousness.

From then on the entries became full of darkness, Lee noted. She suspected that her husband had been murdered by the Captain, who was pursuing her with his attempts to seduce her. Finally she couldn't stand it anymore. She killed herself.

Crane looked up and watched the ghostly woman on the dance floor. She held a faraway look, as if she was entranced. The soft music made her move and dance, holding her arms as if she was dancing with a partner. Her feet never really touched the floor, always hovering a few inches above it. Her white dressed flowed around her, making no sound at all. It was sad and eerie to watch her.

"Captain Crane!"

The shout made him look up and he discovered the Ghostbusters running toward him. Winston Zeddemore was holding the Captain's log. He looked a bit rumpled, as did the others, but none of them were hurt.

Crane took the log from him, depositing the diary on the floor beside him. "Did you get the ghost?" he asked.

All four shook their heads.

"No," Ray explained. "It was there for several seconds and it returned when we tried to find the log, but we didn't catch it."

"What about her?" Peter asked and gestured at the dancing woman.

"She's been doing that ever since," Kowalski answered. "No change."

Crane nodded in agreement. "She's only dancing. We tried to talk to her, but she never reacts." He began to page through the log book.

 

 

Peter watched Sarah-Jane as she danced, listened to the slow music. He walked over to her and smiled at the ghostly figure.

"Hi, Sarah-Jane. Remember me?"

No reaction.

"I'm Peter. I'd like to get to know you," Peter went on.

She danced, her eyes faraway.

"I read in your diary," he continued. "About your husband and what happened to the ship." Was it his imagination or did the eyes suddenly look distressed? "I read about Captain Marsh as well. He is still here, Sarah-Jane. And so are you. Why don't you go?"

Sarah-Jane stopped dancing, her blue eyes fixed on Peter with a mournful expression. "I can't. He won't let me," she said.

"Who?"

"Captain Marsh. He keeps me here."  She hugged herself, shivering.

Peter wished he could touch her, offer her comfort. This ghost wasn't like the others he usually encountered. She was a frightened woman, who had taken her life to escape a hopeless life in a sunken wreck, to flee from the man she hated and to be reunited with the man she loved.

"Why does he keep you here?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I hate him," she whispered.

"Noooooooo!" The howl echoed through the room and Peter flinched, but Sarah-Jane remained as calm and impassive as before.

"What happened?" Ray asked and joined Peter.

"She says she can't leave because of Marsh and that she hates him," the psychologist answered. "And every time she had said that he reacts to it. I don't know why, but somehow those two are connected." He turned to the ghost. "Sarah-Jane, why do you hate him?"

"He keeps me here," the ghost answered. "He killed my love, my husband, me."

"Guys, watch out!" Winston yelled and Ray and Peter looked around.

Ray's eyes went wide as he discovered the other ghost materializing close to them. It was Captain Neil Marsh, in his full uniform. He looked sad beyond words, his eyes dark and mournful.

"No!" he said again.

Sarah-Jane didn't seem to notice him. She began dancing again.

"Captain Marsh," Peter addressed him, stepping away from the dancing woman. "Why are you here?" he asked him the same question he had asked Sarah-Jane.

The man looked at him, his face holding warring emotions. His eyes traveled to Sarah-Jane again and became soft, loving.

"I love her," he said.

Sarah-Jane kept on dancing.

"I always loved her," Marsh continued, his eyes never leaving the woman. "But she didn't want me. She wanted Young. And I had to wed them." Anger crept into his voice. "Because of Mace. He didn't want me, he wanted Young, just like his daughter. Because he was younger, showed more promise, as he always said."

"So you did what?" Peter probed gently.

"I wanted to hurt him. Not Sarah-Jane, not the beautiful woman I loved. I wanted to see Mace suffer for what he had made me do." Marsh balled his hands into fists.

"You sank the ship?" Peter continued, holding up a hand to still any questions the others, who had joined him, had.

"Yes," the ghost answered. "But everything went wrong. I didn't want her to be trapped here. I didn't want her to suffer. Maybe I wanted Young to die in his attempts to safe the ship, but never her." The Captain finally looked at Peter. "I did this to her."

"Did you kill her husband?" the psychologist asked the all-important question.

Marsh shook his head. "No. The young idiot wanted to get more sponge material out of the flooded section, but he stayed too long. The water was icy cold and he lost consciousness. I pulled him out, but we didn't have enough heat and he got pneumonia."

"Sarah-Jane wrote she found him unconscious in the engine room," Peter reminded him.

"Of course she did," Marsh said. "That's where I dragged him, close to the generator. I went off to get dry blankets and that's when she found him. We didn't have any medication because the doctor's quarters were all flooded, it was too cold, we had no cooking places. He died because of severe pneumonia." The ghost shook his head. "I wanted to help her get over the loss, wanted to show her my love, but she despised me."

"And then she killed herself."

Marsh flinched. "Yes. I couldn't continue living alone and I shot myself, but I couldn't go. I stayed here."

Peter understood. "So you kept her here as well?"

"I didn't want to keep her, but I didn't know what to do alone," Marsh explained desperately.

"I believe I know what happened here," Egon said. "Captain Marsh stayed here as a ghost because he felt guilty of sinking the ship. Sarah-Jane wasn't able to leave because his will keeps her here. But Sarah-Jane is also influencing him, because she blames him for her husband's death."

"It's like a viscous circle," Crane muttered. "She hates him for what he did, unable to forgive; he holds on to her because he can't leave and doesn't want to be alone. The more he holds her here, the more she hates him. The more she hates him, the more he feels guilty, unable to forgive himself."

Egon nodded. "Exactly."

"So one of them has to make the first step," Kowalski concluded.

Spengler nodded again. Peter frowned and turned to the dancing woman.

"Sarah-Jane?"

She kept on dancing, oblivious to them.

"She hates me," Marsh whispered, despair laced deeply through his voice. "I am sorry for what I did. I want her to forgive me, but she won't talk to me." He walked over to the buffet table where her skeleton lay. His ghostly hand passed through her skeleton hands. "I can't let her go; not before I make her understand that I'm sorry."

"Gosh," Ray muttered. "This is so sad." He looked at the dancer. "He wants her forgiveness, but she hates him. It's all a big misunderstanding."

Peter tried to get Sarah-Jane's attention. "Sarah? Sarah-Jane? Why don't you talk to Captain Marsh? After all this time, can't you find the time to just talk or maybe listen? Listen to what he has to tell you?"

Sarah-Jane stopped dancing, though she still held her hands as if she was holding a partner. "I hate him," she repeated.

"No, you don't," Peter contradicted. "You don't hate him. You just don't want to talk to him. You're hiding behind that hatred, evading a confrontation." He gestured at the ball room. "Look around you, Sarah-Jane. Do you want to continue being here? Away from your husband?"

Her eyes saddened even more. "Martin," she whispered.

"Yes, Martin. He didn't kill him, Sarah-Jane. It's all a misunderstanding. You hate him because of a misunderstanding, and he doesn't want to let you go with all that hatred."

She looked at the ghostly Captain for the first time, her hands falling to her side. "Misunderstanding?" She glided over to where her skeleton lay.

Marsh turned, his dark eyes watching her approach. She stopped a few feet away from him, her hands now clutched in front of her chest.

"Sarah-Jane," Marsh whispered, his eyes glistening wetly. "Forgive me for what I did. I never intended to harm you."

Sarah-Jane watched him with those large, blue eyes and Peter prayed she'd see the honesty in the Captain's eyes. Ray was so tense he was gnawing at his lower lip.

Finally she reached out with one hand and he took it gently. "I forgive you," she said softly. "I was wrong, I can see that now."

"And so was I," he answered. "I was angry; I handled rash and without thinking."

She nodded. "We both made mistakes."

"Yes," Ray whispered, sounding exulted.

"What now?" Lee Crane wanted to know, watching the two ghosts.

"If my calculations are correct, Sarah-Jane will dissolve peacefully, now that she has been released and has lost her hatred."

"And the Captain?" Kowalski asked.

"He should dissolve as well. He has no more unfinished business."

And, true to Egon's words, Sarah-Jane Mace began to dissolve. Her body grew even more translucent and suddenly was gone. Marsh was left alone, standing beside her skeleton. His eyes held a sad expression, but there was a smile on his face. He turned to face the men.

"Thank you," he said, his voice wavering with emotions. He looked directly at Lee. "I am truly sorry about the sabotage, Captain Crane. I was angry at your intrusion. I didn't want you to see what happened here, to confess my guilt."

Crane nodded. "You never did any serious damage, nothing we couldn't repair." He didn't want the ghost to blame himself for yet another mistake.

"Take the log," Marsh continued. "Tell everyone that it wasn't a faulty ship. The _Bermuda Princess_ was a good ship, the best I ever commanded."

Crane nodded again. "I will make that known, Captain Marsh."

Marsh nodded and then saluted. The three men from the _Seaview_ returned the salute. Then Marsh started to dissolve, his lips displaying a smile.

"Wow!" Ray breathed.

Peter grinned. He felt the same, preferring to see a once human ghost dissolve peacefully to the option of damning him to a life in the containment unit. And if they could help a ghost solve his problems in the turn it was even better.

"Let's get back to the _Seaview_ ," Captain Crane decided. "Mr. Kowalski, tell Admiral Nelson that we're on our way back to the Sub."

"Yes, Sir."

Lee looked around the ball room, which was now silent and empty, his eyes coming to rest on the body of Sarah-Jane Young. It was sad, but it was also the solution to a mystery, he thought. With these thoughts he left the ball room, following his men and the Ghostbusters back to the Flying Sub.

 

* * *

 

 _  
Seaview   
_

 

"The entries in the log book confirm what Captain Marsh told us," Lee Crane said and looked at the men in the conference room. Beside him there were Chip, Nelson and the four Ghostbusters. "He sunk the ship to get back at Carl Mace, but he didn't bet on his chief engineer trying to safe the cruise liner. And he couldn't foretell that Sarah-Jane Mace would stay as well. They survived down there for two months, then Young died of pneumonia. Sarah-Jane thought Marsh had killed her husband and took her own life. Marsh shot himself later." He drummed his fingers on the log book lying on the conference table. "Marsh wrote a confession that he was solely responsible for the sabotage and that it was revenge that made him do it."

"That's so sad," Ray muttered and shook his head.

"But we gave them a chance to talk to each other and they found forgiveness," Winston said with a smile. "They finally found their peace, after 60 years."

Ray smiled as well. "Yeah."

"And we found a treasure," Nelson added. "The _Bermuda Princess_ is in remarkably good shape and I believe that we can raise her in one piece." He smiled like a little boy. "This will be a fabulous museum piece!"

"It sure will," Crane agreed and Morton nodded. "But I think we should get our guests back to the base now." He looked at the Ghostbusters.

"I hope you don't expect me to do the helicopter stunt again," Peter muttered.

Nelson chuckled. "Why not, Dr. Venkman? You don't expect us to turn around and get back to Norfolk just because of you?"

Peter grimaced. "I knew it....."

Crane laughed. "Don't worry, gentlemen, the moment we have the Sub ready we'll get you flown back to Norfolk."

"I knew it meant flying," Peter grumbled on, but there was a lot of relief in his eyes that it didn't mean getting from the submarine up into a helicopter.

The others just grinned.


End file.
